


By Any Other Name

by jensenacklesruinedmylife



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bunker Fic, F/M, Fem!Cas, Female Castiel, M/M, Season 9
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-24
Updated: 2014-01-14
Packaged: 2018-01-02 12:09:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1056608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jensenacklesruinedmylife/pseuds/jensenacklesruinedmylife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Castiel falls, he loses his vessel. His new vessel is surprisingly similar to his old one, except for one thing – Castiel's new vessel is female. </p><p> </p><p>  <i>Dean recognizes him the moment they lock eyes. He still has the trench coat, but now it's held in place with a silky blue belt around the middle. Instead of a suit, there's a short, black pencil skirt, a white button-up, and a fitted blazer. His hair is long and wavy, but still black; his eyes are wide and vibrant, but still so, so blue. Dean's eyes travel down his toned legs and he notes the 3-inch heels on his feet. He looks back up and they lock eyes once more. </i></p><p> </p><p>  <i>It's Cas, Dean is somehow absolutely certain. Except now he is, essentially, a she.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Found

Dean is in Idaho for a case when he finds Cas.

Kevin and Sam are back at the bunker, working on the tablets, and – in an effort to get out of doing actual work – Dean finds a case and takes it. Sam bitches and Kevin moans but Dean waves them off; they’re safe, and that’s what matters.

After speaking with the authorities and finding no supernatural leads, Dean figures that the crime he found was purely civilian. Mentally unstable and possibly deranged, but civilian nonetheless. He makes a pit stop at the local gas ‘n’ sip before the long drive back to Kansas, intent on getting a nice, large cup of coffee. He walks inside the small store, past a few isles and toward the coffee cart, but when he arrives, there’s someone already standing there, looking extremely confused.

Dean chuckles and asks, “Need some help with that?” He takes a few steps closer, but when the person turns to look at Dean, he freezes.

Dean recognizes him the moment they lock eyes. He still has the trench coat, but now it's held in place with a silky blue belt around the middle. Instead of a suit, there's a short, black pencil skirt, a white button-up, and a fitted blazer. His hair is long and wavy, but still black; his eyes are wide and vibrant, but still so, _so_ blue. Dean's eyes travel down his toned legs and he notes the 3-inch heels on his feet. He looks back up and they lock eyes once more.   
  
It's Cas, Dean is somehow absolutely certain. Except now _he_ is, essentially, a _she_.   
  
"Dean?" Cas asks, and his – well, _her –_ voice carries warm and heavy around the shape of his name. Dean can only nod, because this has to be some kind of joke. For a brief moment, Dean thinks, _she’s gorgeous,_ but then he remembers that it’s _Cas,_ and quickly regains his composer.  
  
"You're..." Dean bursts into laughter, unsure how else to react to the situation. "Dude, you're a girl." 

“I’m a _woman,_ ” Cas corrects, “Calling me a girl implies that I am prepubescent, and I am sure that this vessel is at least 30 years of age.”

Dean blinks, but he’s still grinning. _Cas is a girl. Holy shit._ “What the hell happened?” Dean whispers, glancing around them to make sure no one is listening in.

“I fell,” Cas admits with regret, “Metatron took my grace, Dean. I’m…human.”

Dean’s heart sinks a bit in his chest. “Son of a bitch,” he mutters, wiping a hand over his mouth. “But you’re okay, right? Did you get hurt?”

“The pain was excruciating,” Cas recounts, fiddling with the coffee maker’s settings. Dean notes the thin fingers and the chipped, French manicured nails. “But instead of landing in Jimmy’s body, I woke up in the middle of a forest with this female vessel instead.” She gestures toward herself with a hand and sighs. “I am okay but I…I feel…different.”

“You _look_ different,” Dean blurts, his eyes traveling down and back up Castiel’s new body once more. When his eyes reach her face, though, she’s glaring at him, and Dean has to admit, he feels a bit guilty.

“Where are you staying?” Dean asks, purposely changing the subject.

“A nice man let me stay in his motel free of charge,” Cas replies, “He even gave me some money to buy food and other necessities.”

Dean shakes his head. “Wait, some guy let you stay at his motel for _free_?”

“As long as I repaid him as soon as I could. I was surprised at his generosity.”

“Yeah, me too,” Dean’s mind automatically thinks the worst, and his chest swells with a protectiveness that he hasn’t felt since he pulled Sam out of his place at Stanford the night Jess died. Now that Cas is human, he – _she,_ Dean reminds himself again – is defenseless, vulnerable, and naïve to human culture.  “This guy, did he…hurt you? Touch you?”

Cas squints at Dean, and it’s just as endearing as it’s always been. “We shook hands, but that’s all. I’ve only been there for a few nights. Why?”

“Nothing, just making sure,” Dean sighs with relief and hopes that Cas doesn’t push for more. When she doesn’t, Dean smiles at her. “Wanna get outta here?” he asks, and ignores the voice in his head reminding him how he uses that line in bars to pick up strippers.

“Back to the bunker?” Cas asks.

Dean nods.

Cas nods as well and makes an awkward movement forward, then takes a shy step backward. “I feel like I should, um…hug you? I don’t know if that would –.”

“Dude, you can hug me,” Dean says, pulling her into his arms. He hugs her like he would hug any other woman – a tight hold around the waist, hands pressed against the small of her back, his chin hooked over her shoulder. It takes every bit of restraint Dean has to keep him from nuzzling Cas’s hair and kissing her temple.

Cas is still at first, and Dean’s afraid he’s made her uncomfortable, but then her arms settle behind his neck, and she relaxes. They stand there for a long while, breathing each other in, and when they finally pull away, Dean feels at peace for the first time since the angels fell.

Cas looks at him with a gaze so intense, her head tilted slightly to the right, and Dean thinks he might melt under the weight of it. And then, she speaks.

“You are aware that ‘dude’ implies a male connotation?”

Dean laughs and lets go of Cas, turning to lead them out of the store. “Yes, Cas, I’m aware. I call everyone dude, alright? Don’t take it personally.”

“I won’t,” she replies, and Dean can sense an attitude there. _Well, that’s new._ Dean isn’t surprised, though. Cas _is_ a woman now, after all, and Dean’s history with women isn’t the most pleasant. Attitude is something he’s used to.

He holds the door open for Cas as they exit the store, and it feels odd, but Cas doesn’t mention it. Dean watches her walk across the parking lot, and is surprised at the balance she has, considering the heels she’s wearing. _Maybe all women are just born with the ability to walk in uncomfortable shoes._  When they reach the Impala, Dean opens the door for Cas, and she just slides in, albeit clumsily, pulling at her skirt and adjusting the belt that has loosened around her coat.

Dean gets in on the driver’s side and starts the car. “Sam and Kevin are _not_ gonna believe this,” he says, peeling away from the other vehicles in the lot.

Cas giggles, a short, quiet thing. It’s cute, and when Dean looks over, she’s got her hands lifted in front of her face, inspecting them.

“Weird being in a chick’s body, ain’t it?” Dean says, both of his hands on the wheel. He’s driving five miles slower than he usually does. He tries not to think about why.

“It’s…” Cas starts, before sighing and wrapping her arms around herself. “It’s comforting. Inconvenient in many ways, but comforting.”  

“Yeah?” Dean responds. He can relate, but only from an outsider’s perspective, and he doesn’t want to say anything stupid, so he says nothing else.

“I’m very tired,” Cas says softly, and then yawns. “How long until we arrive in Kansas?”

“A while,” Dean answers, “and you’ll probably have to pee sometime before then. You can sleep; I’ll wake you when I stop.”

“Mmm,” Cas mumbles, already leaning against the door. She kicks off her shoes and pulls her legs up beside her, squirming a bit in her skirt before finally settling down.

Dean mentally scolds himself before he can even _imagine_ the kind of underwear she’s wearing. _It’s Cas! Why do you even care? Pull yourself together, man!_

Cas yawns again, and eventually drifts off to sleep. Dean can hear her deep breaths over the sound of the Impala’s engine, and he has no clue as to why, but it soothes him. He relaxes slightly in his seat, and feels Cas’s toes tickle the side of his thigh. He glances down, and spies the beginnings of a blister on the back of her left ankle. He makes a mental note to get Cas more comfortable shoes – and more clothes – once they get back to the bunker. He would stop and buy a pair now, but he knows they need to get back as soon as possible. There are rogue angels out there looking for Cas. Luckily for her, she has an excellent disguise, but that doesn’t mean she’s safe.

And now, more than ever, Dean needs to make sure that Cas is safe.                   


	2. Welcome Home (Kind Of)

By the time they get to the bunker, it's past midnight. Dean parks the Impala by the brick wall of the building and steps out, stretching in the process. Cas had been asleep for the last two hours, so Dean had taken the opportunity to drive nonstop. He’d sleep off the soreness later.

Dean walks over to the passenger side door and gently pulls it open. Cas shivers as the cool air makes its way inside the car, but she doesn’t fully wake.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean reaches down to shake her, but pauses to grab one of her hands instead, squeezing it. “We’re here, sleepy head.”

Castiel’s hand clenches where Dean holds it and her eyes open slowly before widening with alertness. “Dean?” she asks, turning her face toward him. She looks terrified. “Am I -?”

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” Dean assures, squeezing her hand again. “We’re at the bunker. Did you have a nightmare or something?”

Cas swallows before responding. “They’ve been plaguing me for days now. Sleep is still…an adjustment, and the nightmares are quite unpleasant.”

Dean opens his mouth to say something, but a cold gust of wind changes his mind. “Let’s get inside, yeah?”

Cas blinks a couple times before nodding, pulling her legs out from under the rest of her body and sliding on her shoes. Dean is still holding her hand when she steps out, and it’s a good thing he is because Cas takes all but four steps and trips on a crack in the worn pavement, landing in Dean’s arms with a yelp.

“Whoa there,” Dean chuckles, straining to keep them both upright, “You have _got_ to ditch those shoes.”

“They weren’t my choice to begin with,” Cas huffs, blowing a strand of hair away from her face. It’s then that Dean realizes how close they are, and it feels like a shitty romcom – Cas hanging on to the lapels of Dean’s jacket, Dean holding Cas steadily by the waist, the wind tousling their hair, their faces inches apart…

Dean clears his throat and takes a step away, keeping one hand on Cas’s waist so that she can find her balance again. Once she does, he moves his hand to her back to lead her to the bunker door. “Alright, let’s try this again,” he says lightly, trying to convince himself that he is simply being a gentleman.

They reach the door and Dean pulls out the key, placing it into the lock and turning. He hears the familiar click and pushes the heavy door open slowly, not wanting to startle Sam or Kevin should they be asleep. At least, he hopes they’re asleep.

“After you,” he says to Cas, motioning a hand toward the staircase to the right of the door. Cas steps inside, her heels clicking on the steel beneath their feet. Dean closes the door with a soft _thud_ and motions for Cas to follow him. She does, and when they reach main floor, she speaks.

“Thank you,” she says, looking at Dean as if he’d hung the moon, “for inviting me to stay here.”

“Oh, uh, ‘course,” Dean stutters, resisting the urge to clap her on the shoulder like he would have before. He’s never been good at the whole _gratitude_ thing, especially when it’s directed toward him. “I’m just glad I found you. You’re –.”

“–Not supposed to be here,” a voice interjects. Dean whips around to find Sam standing in the doorway that leads to the dining room, clearly annoyed for a reason Dean can’t yet place. “Are you drunk?”

The question comes out of left field, but what surprises Dean the most is its sincerity.

“No, I’m not drunk,” Dean objects, squinting at Sam, “Why the hell would I be drunk?”

“Dude, you brought a girl to the bunker,” Sam replies, glancing between him and Cas, and it takes a second, but the proverbial light bulb goes off in Dean’s head.

“ _Oh_ , oh no no no, dude,” Dean points, and a laugh escapes him, “This is Cas.”

Sam stares, long and hard, before crossing his arms and sighing. “Look, Dean, I know you miss the guy, but you can’t go pick up some chick with the same name and eye color just because –.”

“What?!” _Sam has lost his mind,_ Dean thinks, shaking his head. “No, dude, I mean, this _is Cas._ Angel of the Lord –.”

“Ex-angel,” Cas corrects, “I no longer have my grace. We discussed this, Dean.”

Dean rolls his eyes, but when he looks back at his brother, he figures Sam recognizes Castiel’s tone of voice because his jaw is practically on the floor.

“Cas?!” he exclaims, stepping into the room. He slides a hand through his hair, the way he always does when he’s too baffled to speak. “You’re…you’re a –.”

“A woman, yes.”

Sam looks at Dean, who only shrugs in response. He looks at Cas again, “But how?”

Cas sighs, placing her hands in the pockets of the trench coat. “I’m not entirely sure. I fell, and when I landed, I was in this vessel. I looked for Jimmy’s body, but it seemed to have disappeared. “

“God, she sounds just like him,” Sam mutters, and Dean laughs again.

“Doesn’t she? It’s crazy, man, but it’s our Cas, alright.”

Cas squints at the both of them, and Dean ignores the part of his brain telling him how cute she looks when she does that. “I _am_ ‘him’,” she says.

“Yeah, I know, but – you know what? I’m gonna go back to bed and try to wrap my head around this. Dean, you’ve got this, right?” Sam doesn’t wait for a reply. He turns around and stalks back toward his room, shaking his head as he does so.

Dean smiles and turns to face Cas again, ignoring the suggestive thoughts that sneak into his mind now that they’re alone again. “You hungry? I’m sure there’s something in the kitchen I can whip up.”

Cas shakes her head, “I am still tired. Though I don’t understand why; I slept almost the entire way here. Do humans never feel well-rested?”

Dean grins, and Cas tilts her head to the side, eyebrows knitting together. This only makes him laugh.

“I don’t understand what is so funny, Dean,” she says.

“Nothing, nothing, it’s just…you’re –,” _adorable,_ Dean’s mind provides. He bites his lip and ignores it. “Let’s find you a room, come on.”

Dean leads the way through the dining area and down a wide hallway, where the bedrooms are. There’s a spare room across the hall from his that’s mostly empty, save for a few boxes of books and other things they haven’t had the chance to organize yet. He opens the door and flicks on the lamp that sits on a desk to his left. He and Cas step inside, and the floor creaks slightly. There’s a bed and a mattress on the opposite wall that’s already covered with clean sheets. The bedside table holds another lamp and a clock, and there’s a small rug on the floor. The room is a bit smaller than the other rooms, but still large enough to be comfortable. _Cas doesn’t have anything to fill it with, anyway,_ Dean thinks, and immediately feels an ache in his chest. Cas has nothing – no belongings, no possessions – just the clothes on her back.

“This is nice,” Cas says, looking around, “it’s…homey.” She spins toward Dean and smiles, but her fingers twist nervously around the belt on her waist. “But I…have a request.”

“Anything.”

“I would love to get out of these clothes,” she sighs, and Dean suppresses a cough before she continues, “But I don’t have any nightgowns, or whatever it is women wear to bed these days.”

“A lot of them just sleep naked,” Dean blurts, and then Cas is squinting at him again. _Real smooth, Winchester._ “But let me go uh, grab you something.” Dean turns and rushes out of the room and into his own, closing the door behind him. He leans against the door and scrubs a hand over his mouth.

“Pull it together, man,” he mutters to himself, shucking off his jacket and tossing it onto his bed. He pulls open a few drawers, trying to find something for Cas to sleep in. He ends up picking out an old grey shirt that isn’t too worn out, and a pair of lounge pants that recently shrunk in the wash. He changes into his own sleep wear before going to Cas’s door and knocking.

“Come in,” Cas says, and Dean pushes open the door to find her hanging up her blazer in the closet. The trench coat is folded on a chair by the wall and her shoes sit neatly on the floor beside it.

When she turns to face him, Dean takes a moment to appreciate how _hot_ Cas is. Well, Cas’s _vessel,_ but still. It’s surprising because she’s still fully clothed, and yet Dean can hear his pulse racing. Without the coat and blazer, Dean can see the curve of her waist, of her ass, of her breasts – and he’s trying not to stare but he’s keenly aware that that’s exactly what he’s doing.

“Dean?” Cas speaks, and there’s that voice again, melting like chocolate around the his name.

“Here ya go,” Dean says stiffly, handing over the clothes, “They’re probably too big, but they should do. Let me know if you need anything, alright?” He turns to leave when he hears his name again.

“Dean –.”

“Yeah, Cas?”

She looks nervous again, but not uncomfortable or out of place. “Have a good night,” she says softly, and her hair catches the light of the lamp as she nods toward Dean. “And thank you, again.”

“Of course, Cas,” Dean replies, “you’re family.”

At that, Cas smiles, a small smile but it’s there, and Dean’s cheeks heat on their own accord.

“Good night,” he mutters as he rushes out the door for the second time that night. When he gets to his room he locks the door and falls onto his bed, face first. He groans, because _what the hell?_ This was Cas. Ex-angel of the Lord, socially inept, loyal to a fault, “raised you from perdition” Castiel. Except now she’s a chick, and Dean can’t function. She’s the same celestial wavelength or whatever that she’s always been, right?

Dean tries to sleep, but to no avail. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys are enjoying this fic so far! The idea popped into my head randomly but I kind of like where it's going. Thanks for reading! <3


	3. How To Be a Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang adjusts to Castiel's feminine side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next chapter! There will be 9 parts in total. Bless you all for reading, please enjoy! <3

The next morning, Dean wakes up with a yawn. He glances at his watch to see that it’s almost noon.

“Guess I got my four hours,” he grunts, sitting up to stretch. After a minute, he heads out of his room and down the hall to the bathroom. He washes his face, and then reaches for his toothbrush when he spies an unfamiliar brush beside his own.

 _Did Sam have a girl over?_ Dean thinks while he brushes his teeth, and suddenly it hits him – _Cas._

The events of the day before flood back to Dean’s mind and he almost chokes on his own saliva. He spits into the sink and rinses out his mouth, rushing out of the bathroom and up the hall to Cas’s door. He moves to knock when he realizes that it’s already open, so he peeks inside. When he finds the room empty, Dean panics a little. _Where the hell is she?_

“Dean!”

Dean whips around to find Kevin walking toward him, a dazed expression on his face.

“Hey, what’s up?”

Kevin presses his palms together and points his fingers at Dean. “Did you break the ‘no chicks in the bunker’ rule last night?”

Dean makes a displeased face. “Why does everyone assume that I would break that rule?”

“Maybe because the woman in our kitchen is wearing your clothes? I mean, I’m not complaining, she’s making lunch. She’s also pretty hot from what I can tell, nice a–.”

Dean puts a hand up, “Wait, she’s in the kitchen?”

Kevin nods slowly, and Dean moves past him to get to the bunker’s kitchen, leaving Kevin standing confused in the hall. Before he turns the corner, though, Dean yells back, “Oh, and she’s not some chick, she’s Cas!”

Kevin’s strangled, “What?!” is heard a few moments later, and Dean can’t help the smirk that pulls at his lips. His face falls, however, when he steps into the kitchen.

Standing by the counter is a pant-less, _pant-less_ , Cas, hair done up in a tangled mess that Dean assumes is supposed to be a bun, flipping through an old cookbook with stubborn determination. Her feet tap across the hardwood floors as she walks back and forth between the oven and the stove, and although the kitchen is an utter mess, nothing smells like it’s burning.

Dean’s about to ask if she needs any help, when instead, he blurts in a strangled voice, “You aren’t wearing pants!”

Cas whips around so quickly that the spatula in her hand goes flying, clanging as it hits a cupboard, and her hip knocks the cookbook down to the floor with a thump.

“Dean!” she gasps, “You frightened me!”

Dean tries not to laugh, he really does, but there’s flour all over her cheeks, her – well, _Dean’s_ – shirt, and even in her hair. So he laughs, and when Cas looks offended, he steps further into the kitchen, waving his hands.

“Sorry, I forgot you can’t, like, sense me anymore. Um, did you lose a fight with some baked goods?”

Cas sighs, “If you’re implying that I attempted to bake something and it didn’t work, then yes, I lost. But I don’t understand; I followed the directions to the letter!”

Dean chuckles, “Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it.” He squats to pick up the cookbook, but as he moves to stand, his eyes (on their own accord, he _swears_ ) travel up Cas’s long, toned legs, and his mind wanders until they hit the bottom of her shirt.

“Uh,” Dean coughs, “Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?” she replies, taking the book from Dean’s hands and sitting it back on the counter. She opens it and begins to flip the pages, trying to find her place, Dean assumes.

“Is there any reason why you’re…well, not wearing pants?”

Cas doesn’t bother looking up as she answers, “Oh, yes! Your pajama bottoms were not very comfortable, that’s all. I seem to recall that you and Sam often walk around in your undergarments, so I decided I’d give it a try.” She taps the page she’s on and moves back to the stove before glancing up at Dean. “It’s much more comfortable.”

Dean can’t argue there, not that he really wants to, and apparently, neither does his libido. Rolling his eyes internally, Dean clears his throat and thinks of an excuse to leave the room.

“So, you’re all good here?” he asks, voice an octave too high for his liking.

“Mhm,” Cas hums, pinching salt into a sizzling pan, “Lunch should be ready soon.”

Dean nods and turns to leave, but pauses before he can take a step.

“Thanks for…doing all of this. Making food, or whatever. You really didn’t have to, I’m sure you’re still tired, and –.”

“It’s my pleasure, really,” Cas assures, smiling at him. “I figure the best way to get used to humanity is to dive right in. No hesitations.”

“Right,” Dean agrees, nodding again as he leaves the kitchen. “No hesitations…” he mumbles to himself, and his mind goes where he knew it would. He groans, speed walking to the bathroom for a shower and some quick relief, trying his hardest _not_ to think about Cas as he does so.

+++

“I can’t believe Cas is a girl,” Kevin repeats for the umpteenth time.

“Well, get used to it,” Dean replies lazily.

Sam laughs and shakes his head, “Do _all_ angels go through a sex change when they fall?”

They’re sitting in the bunker’s den waiting for Cas to finish making lunch. She had ordered them all to stay out of the kitchen, and who were they to argue with a former ex-angel, turned female, wearing nothing but a t-shirt and underwear?

“Anna didn’t,” Dean replies after a while, and Sam raises a brow.

“That’s true… It’s probably just Cas, then. Do you think it’s reversible?”

“Are we sure we _want_ it to be reversible?” Kevin adds with a glint in his eyes.

Dean scoffs and throws a pillow at him. “You’re a perv, man.”

“Am not!” Kevin exclaims, crossing his arms. “We were all thinking it.”

Sam shrugs. “I’m kinda neutral about it, honestly. It’s still the same Cas, who has kicked major ass and sacrificed his life –.”

“Her,” Dean interrupts.

“ _Her life_ for us. Multiple times. It’s still Cas, and…she’s…still family. That’s all that matters, I think.”

“Agreed,” Dean says, paying extreme attention to his phone so his eyes don’t give him away. Cas may still be Cas, but now Dean is very, _very_ attracted to Cas, as he discovered during his shower earlier. That makes things different. Doesn’t it?

“Why isn’t she wearing pants, again?” Kevin’s voice cuts through Dean’s thoughts.

“She said it’s more comfortable,” he grunts, shifting his position on the armchair. “And I mean, come on. It is.”

“I’m not complaining,” Kevin replies, and Dean’s tempted to throw his phone at the kid, but instead he fixes him with a look. Kevin rolls his eyes. “Don’t look at me like that, dude, I’ve been alone for too long. Sue me!”

Dean can relate, but he doesn’t mention that.

“Alright, gang, lunch is finished but I, um, lost a fight with the baked goods, so I’m going to change and then I’ll be right back!” Cas is in and out of the den before anyone can get a word in, the sound of her bare feet echoing down the hall.

Kevin plants his face in his hands. “God, she’s so hot. I can’t believe I think _Cas_ is hot!”

Sam chuckles and closes the book he’s been reading, tucking it under his arm as he stands and pats Kevin on the shoulder. “We’ve all been there, buddy.” After he leaves the den, Dean stands and puts his phone in his pocket, then plops down next to Kevin on the couch.

“Hey,” he whispers, nudging at the kid until Kevin looks up, “Can you keep a secret?”

“Who aren’t we telling? There’re only four of us, man.”

“Sam and Cas, duh,” Dean sighs, “Can you keep a secret or not?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kevin sits up and claps his hands together, “Lay it on me.”

Dean can’t believe he’s about to say this. “I think so, too.”

“You think…what, too?” Kevin asks, raising a brow.

“Ya know,” Dean shrugs uncomfortably, “I think Cas… is uh…hot.” The last word is barely audible, but when Kevin’s left eyebrow rises to meet his right, Dean’s sure he heard it.

“So it’s not just me! Finally, someone agrees with me about a member of the opposite sex!” He grins then, pointing at Dean, “Wanna call dibs?”

It’s Dean’s turn to raise his brows. “Dibs? What? Dude, no! We’re not _calling dibs_ on Cas, what is wrong with you?” He gets up, feigning disgust, and leaves the den, a confused Kevin not too far behind.

“But you just said –?”

“Hey,” Dean spins to place a hand over Kevin’s mouth, “It’s a secret, remember?”

Kevin still looks confused, but he rolls his eyes and nods. “Whatever,” he mumbles, and then Dean feels something wet on his palm.

“Did you just lick my hand?!” Dean yanks his hand away and wipes it down the side of his jeans.

Kevin chuckles, but doesn’t admit to a thing. _The little shit._

“Well, I’m starved. Let’s see what Cas cooked up, hmm?” Kevin slides past Dean, who is still staring at his hand, to get to the dining room first.

“I’m so getting him back,” Dean says aloud.

“Getting who back?”

Cas’s feminine voice startles Dean; he’s still not used to the sound. He tries not to act surprised when he sees her, though. “Kevin,” Dean laughs awkwardly, feeling like he’d just been caught reaching for the proverbial cookie jar. “It’s nothing. Time for lunch?”

“It is, yes,” Cas responds with a nod. She’s wearing her outfit from the day before, sans the trench coat, and Dean realizes that she could probably use some new clothes.

“Cas, as much as I enjoy the whole um, holy tax accountant vibe you’ve got going on, I think you need some new digs.”

Cas furrows her eyebrows and Dean sighs, explaining, “Clothes, Cas. We need to go shopping.”

“Shopping,” she repeats, and then smiles coyly, “Isn’t shopping a popular pastime for women? They do have a more extensive knowledge of style and such.”

“Hey, I have plenty of style!” Dean defends, too quickly, so he clears his throat and stands taller, “But uh, yeah, usually. But you’re stuck with me. That a problem?”

“Not at all, Dean,” Cas replies, playing with her hands. It’s a nervous gesture, and Dean wonders why she would be nervous. “I do not mind being, as you say, _stuck_ with you.”

She’s smiling at him again and Dean feels a warm burst of energy shimmy it’s way to the center of his chest, and a little to the left.

“Good,” Dean exhales, clapping his hands together and brushing his _feelings_ to the side. He’ll deal with them later. “Now let’s go eat!” 


End file.
